


Mirror Image

by WinterWolfWitch



Category: Dragon Age: Inquisition
Genre: F/M, Fluff and Smut
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2019-09-24
Updated: 2019-09-24
Packaged: 2020-10-27 15:14:10
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 2
Words: 8,555
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/20762441
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/WinterWolfWitch/pseuds/WinterWolfWitch
Summary: Gwyn Trevelyan receives a mysterious package for her birthday, the content highly questionable, yet intriguing at the same time.Worried that the worldly Commander she has fallen for far too quickly might soon tire of her inexperience, she pushes to find her courage and explore the boundaries of their new-found intimacy.





	1. An unxpected arrival

**Author's Note:**

> This came about from a NSFW prompt that captured my imagination.  
I ummed and ah'ed for a long time about posting it, but sometimes you just need to set things free, even if they are not perfect.

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> A mysterious package arrives through a courier from Orlais, addressed to Inquisitor Gwenneth Trevelyan. Inside are various objects and a thick sealed envelope with ’s name written on the front.   
The monogram “RD” can be made out on the wax seal that protects the privacy of the letter from prying eyes. Other than the letter, the recipient finds:   
A sumptuous strip of black velvet ...  
Two small leather-bound books, pages entirely blank, apart from one single sentence on the cover page of each that reads “A fantasy shared is a bond deepened”  
A delicate bottle of perfumed oil that upon closer inspection appears to possess some sensitising properties and produces a most delectable feeling of heat when applied directly to the skin  
A deck of skillfully hand-painted cards that appears to consist entirely of highly detailed erotic images  
A curious, smooth, wooden ring, the head of a dragon with outstretched tongue at one end

Chapter one

Gwen felt a warm glow spread through her body as she looked at all the faces gathered at the long dining table with great fondness. Despite the fact that she usually felt happiest either alone or with a small group of close friends, mealtimes at Skyhold continued to provide some of her happiest memories. It was a rare occurrence these days to have everyone from the Inner Circle together, but today was her birthday and they had all made an effort to be there, filling the long table and benches almost completely. 

The cooks had outdone themselves and had provided all of her most favourite dishes, no doubt at Josephine’s prompt, with a detailed list of instructions to go with it.  
It had been a day of surprises already and her smile grew tender as she touched the necklace around her neck. Cullen followed the gesture and smiled at her so warmly it made her cheeks heat. They had woken up in each other’s arms this morning, limbs tangled in a hot mess and he had given her the necklace after making sure she had been woken—and sated—sufficiently through his gentle administrations.   
She returned his smile warmly, the intensity of her feelings for him almost overwhelming. He covered one of her hands with his and briefly caressed it with his thumb, bringing back an acute recollection of how his fingers had played with her—

“Give it a rest you two, eh! You’ve got all day to be all lovey-dovey smoochy-woochy!”

Sera interrupted her thoughts with her usual lack or care for decorum, which was probably a good thing as those thoughts had been straying to places too private for this breakfast table and the lavish and delectable tidbits it carried. Cullen let go off her hand, but not before his lips quirked towards a smirk and from the knowing twinkle in his eyes, he knew exactly what she had been thinking of. 

That man will be the death of me and I would merrily let him lead me there a thousand times over. 

Laughing and shaking her head, Gwen made a face at Sera. She did love the oh-so mercurial girl, even when she was being her usual slightly-obnoxious self.   
She had pushed aside her plate to make room for all the presents the team had brought and they were eagerly prompting her to open them.   
She reached for a slender package closest to her, intrigued by the delicate ribbon it was wrapped with. Gently removing the lid, she gasped in delight when she realised what it contained. A beautiful lace nightshirt from Josephine, no doubt ordered and obtained from Orlais, the silk of the fabric so light and luxurious that it was unlike anything she had ever felt. Even the ornate and intricate ribbons on the gift-wrap seemed too expensive to warrant giving it away as a present. Gwen looked across the table to the left and met Josephine’s eyes, who smiled and nodded her head. 

“Oh Josie, it’s beautiful but it’s too much! This must have cost a fortune!” The lace on it was so fine and intricate, it was almost like sea foam made into cloth. Despite knowing it was too delicate to be worn with any practicality, Gwen found herself very much looking forward to feeling it on her skin. 

“Nonsense, Inquisitor. Without you, my family would never have been restored to their former position. It is no less than my dear friend deserves.” She made a dismissive flourish with her hand that was so characteristic of the Antivan that it made Gwen smile. Why Josephine still insisted on calling her Inquisitor, even when they were amongst friends, was a battle she had long since given up on trying to win. Etiquette and propriety had been instilled so deeply in the ambassador that it was almost cruel to force her to give them up. 

Smiling gratefully, Gwen proceeded to open all the other packages and gifts. A bottle of Ferelden’s finest whisky from Varric, a new pair of boots from Bull, two expensive looking tomes on the principles of Magic from Vivienne that she was dying to read already, a finely crafted dagger from Blackwall and so the list went on and on. Gwen felt both blessed and humbled and had all but ran out of ways to express her gratitude by the time everything had been unpacked. 

Just as their meal was coming to an end, leaving Gwen feeling like she ate enough to last a month, the doors to the mess hall opened to admit a guard with what looked to be a messenger in tow.   
They all looked up and watched the duo approach, the messenger carrying a small, goldpapered box with a black bow. The guard blocked the man’s progress just before they reached the table and smartly saluted. 

“Your Worship, this man says he has a package to be delivered to your hands only?” From the chagrined look he shot the messenger, Gwen gathered they had attempted to take the package off his hands and had been denied.

“It’s alright,” Gwen gestured for the man to come closer. “Let him through.”

Beside her, Cullen had gotten to his feet and took the package before she had the chance and shook it gently, holding it up to his ear as if it would whisper its contents to him. Gwen arched an amused eyebrow and gave him a brief “really? This again?” look, to which Cullen shrugged somewhat sheepishly. It was a good thing he had no idea just how weak in the knees his protective streak made her feel, or they would probably never leave the bedroom again. Not that that was an unpleasant thought in any shape or form, but there was still the small matter of the world needing to be saved from a deluded darkspawn on a murdering spree. 

Cullen reluctantly handed over the box, looking for all the world like he desperately wanted to open it first and make sure it was safe. Everyone’s curiosity piqued, they gathered in as closely as their individual sense of decorum would allow them. In Sera’s case that meant she was practically sitting in Gwen’s lap in her eagerness to see the contents, having all but leapt over the table to do so, whereas Vivienne and Solas simply refused to show any outward sign of interest beyond the occasional glance. With Cullen hovering behind her like a big cat ready to pounce, Varric to the right all but bristling with curiosity and Josephine and Leliana leaning across the table for a closer look, Gwen was starting to feel a little claustrophobic and decided to put everyone out of their misery quickly. 

Not bothering to be as delicate with the ribbon as she would have been under different circumstances, she cut through it with her new dagger and then removed the lid from the box. When she peeled away the dark velvet cloth that covered the contents inside, the first item proved to be a wax sealed letter written on high quality parchment paper. Gwen turned it over and frowned over the initials imprinted on the seal: No one with the letters RD came to mind. 

Putting the letter to one side for the moment, she removed the rest of the content.   
The first object her fingers settled on turned out to be a very pretty glass bottle that, upon further inspection, contained a very fragrant oil, reminiscent of the scent of Embrium with a hint of Felandaris. When she put a drop on her finger, it warmed the skin with a pleasant tingle. Taking a moment to rub her thumb and finger together under her nose to inhale the intriguing scent, she set it aside and picked up the next object. These turned out to be two small leatherbound journals, bound together with a leather cord. They were both blank, a single line having been written on the first page: ‘A fantasy shared is a bond deepened.’   
They were beautiful in and of themselves, but they certainly provided no clue as to the origins—or purpose—of the package. 

Next there was a long, narrow strip of silk cloth and Gwen looked at her companions for any indication they understood what this was all about, but only received looks that were as nonplussed as she was. The final items appeared to be a deck of cards and a curious wooden ring with a raised carving at one end. Realising the cards depicted a rather colourful and explicit set of images, Gwen felt her cheeks warm and quickly put them back in the box. That left the wooden ring and she turned it over in her hands to see if there were any markings on it that could provide further clues. It was incredibly smooth, almost silky to the touch and appeared to have been made from a dark cherry type of wood, but bore no other clues. 

Gwen looked up when Leliana chuckled softly and sat back as if she had the whole thing figured out. Varric was wearing the biggest knowing grin she had ever seen and she was about to ask them what was up when Sera beat her to the punch. “What’s that?!” she said in a way that suggested she found it offensive, regardless of what it may be. 

“See, buttercup, it’s like this:” Varic provided helpfully. “When a man and a woman—”  
“Or a man and a man.” Dorian interjected and Varric amended:   
“True, but not as helpful for this particular demonstration. When a man and a woman love each other very much this can bring them together in an even more pleasurable way.” 

“Huh?” Sera replied and Gwen had to admit she herself still didn’t quite understand the purpose of the ring, although she now very much suspected she might not want to find out in public.  
Bull leant over Sera’s small frame and proceeded to whisper in her ear in a low rumble. Sera’s eyes kept growing wider and wider until Gwen thought they might pop out of her head. Bull made a circle of his fingers and proceeded to push the index finger of his other hand through it, continuing his explanation and Sera tittered. 

“So when he… she feels… that?” Sera’s finger touched the dragon’s forked tongue and Bull nodded emphatically, the glint in his eye intended for Gwen ’s reaction. 

Sera’s titter evolved into a full belly laugh, clearly the mental image was causing much hilarity and Gwen cast a helpless look up at Cullen in hopes of his support. Cullen had gone two shades redder and was pulling at the collar of his tunic as if it had suddenly become too hot.   
Most of them were now looking at her with great amusement and Gwen felt the blush on her cheeks grow hotter by the minute. Rising brusquely, she put everything back in the box and resolutely put the lid back on. 

“I’ll read the letter in my room. Thank you all again for the presents.” And with that, she all but fled to her rooms, trying hard not to picture that dark wooden ring around Cullen’s—Makers breath! Reminding herself firmly that setting friends on fire was frowned upon, she tried to ignore the laughter that accompanied her hurried exit. 

**************

Later that day, she found herself reading the letter again, despite initially deciding that she was going to ignore it for what it was: A prank. A very expensive prank, judging from the contents of the box and the thickness of the parchment the delicate handwriting had arrived with. 

Dear Inquisitor,   
imagine my delight when I received word of your willingness to participate in next quarters’ edition of the Randy Dowager. My readers will be beside themselves to discover your name and read of your adventures. Please accept these gifts with my compliments, I eagerly await your account of how they served their purpose.   
Should you manage to make all of five scarves flutter, a handsome reward awaits. 

\- RD

Clearly one of her “friends” had decided to sign her up for this ridiculous contest, knowing full well how easily flustered she got when things that went on in the bedroom were mentioned. It wasn’t that she was entirely without knowledge, Cullen could certainly attest to that were he the man to share such things, she was just a very private person. Not to mention Cullen had awakened in her an ability for enjoyment she didn’t know she possessed, something she’d not even found the courage to discuss with Cullen. 

Lately she had started to worry if her inexperience would eventually make Cullen lose interest in their love-making. He was such an attentive and caring lover that she often felt she wasn’t able to reciprocate enough. She realised she’d been running the dark sumptuous velvet cloth strip through her hands and held it up to her eyes experimentally. It completely obscured her vision, with not even the barest shimmer of light. Putting it down, she picked up one of the tiny journals, gliding her fingers over the single sentence on the first page. She knew she would never be able to bring herself to broach such a delicate subject with Cullen, it would be too embarrassing for both of them and besides, she had often tried asking him what he liked or wanted and had always received the same one-word answer: “you”. 

What if they could share some of their desires in a non-confrontational and threatening way? Taking action before she could lose her nerve, she took the journals to her desk and quickly wrote on a small piece of parchment: “I’ll share mine if you share yours?” Gently blowing on the ink to dry it faster, she folded the bit of paper in the darker of the two journals and closed it. Using the leather cord to bind it and prevent the paper from falling out, she resolved to find a moment to deliver it to Cullen.


	2. Mirror image

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Not able to resist his curiosity, Cullen overcomes his reservations to respond to Gwen's challenge.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> This is where the smut picks up, explicit content ahead! Proceed with caution!

Adding his signature to the last document with a flourish, Cullen pushed the stack of finished papers in front of him to the side. Of course there was a new stack already waiting on the other side, but then there always was. Reading reports and trying to anticipate the enemy’s movements was his life now. His eyes trailed to the small leatherbound journal at the edge of the desk. He had set it aside, determined not to let it distract him from his duties, but he could not deny his thoughts kept straying to it. He had recognised it right away when one of the recruits came and delivered it. One of Leliana’s, not his, and he wondered if Gwen had picked her on purpose. Although professional in their duties, Cullen knew that the soldier’s barracks were rife with rumours. They were worse than a weaving circle sometimes! He could only imagine the field day they would have with the secret correspondence between the Inquisitor and their Commander. Realising no sensible work was going to come out of his hands at this rate, he got up and stretched wearily. Some days he really felt his age, although no one should feel this old at thirty-five. 

The leather felt cool to the touch when he picked up the small tome and he tried to imagine what she had written. To his growing frustration, it took him some time to undo the knot on the cord; he would have to remind her that not everyone had delicate fingers to pry at tiny bindings. Of course he could have simply cut through it, but he didn’t want to damage something she’d been given as a gift. At least, he assumed it had been a gift, because all in all it was hard to tell. She had read the letter to him later that day and it was clear someone was having a bit of fun. His money was on Varric if it came to that. The cord finally came away and he opened the cover almost impatiently. 

To his surprise, it was still blank and he unfolded the little paper nestled in the seam with a small frown. Reading the question brought both a shiver of anticipation, but also the tendrils of trepidation. Although he had shared some of his experiences at Kinloch with her, mostly at her insistence, no one would ever know the true extent of just how deep they had delved into his mind. There hadn’t been a single thought, desire or guilty pleasure they hadn’t exposed, corrupted and tortured him with. 

Even now, the thought of sharing his most private thoughts with her, made sweat break out on his brow. He loved her deeply and knew she didn’t realise what she was asking of him. He also knew she didn’t believe him when he told her she was enough for him and he, to his undying frustration, lacked the words to convince her otherwise. Staring at the slip of paper as if it would come alive to bite him, he smoothed a thumb over her delicate writing, the black ink in stark contrast against the cream coloured parchment. Could he really afford to let this be the thing that came between them? He felt a stirring when he reminded himself this would be a two-way exchange, a little shiver running down his spine at the thought of her. For her, he would try. 

**************

After three days, Gwen had all but given up hope that Cullen would respond to her challenge. He hadn't given her an indication he’d even received the journal, although she had checked with the messenger and had been assured it had been delivered into his hands. Circumstances and an abundance of crisis had kept them apart and Gwen had put it out of her mind. Which is why she was pleasantly surprised when she returned to her quarters to find the little book on her pillow. Barely allowing herself the time to put down her saddlebags, she rushed to pick it up, her heart beating faster with excitement. A single sentence, hardly the detailed account she’d hoped for, but she could work with this. 

“I would very much like to see you in that night shift.” 

Gwen felt a slow smile expanding on her face and she bit her lower lip as she recalled the way his eyes would devour her upon occasion. Like he was drinking in every detail of her and forming a precise plan of attack. Cullen was all about control, he revelled in it, had to have it and she loved to give it to him. It was when he gave her that look when they were not in private that she got in trouble. She wasn’t even sure he realised he was doing it, but it made her forget everything instantly. She couldn’t count the times she had lost her train of thought mid-sentence when she looked up from the war table and caught that look. That look that said “you are mine”. That look of singular focus that was such an arousing prelude to the claim that would be made later and made her imagination run at full tilt. 

Clutching the book to her chest, she let her mind wander. Of course she could simply invite him to her chambers and wear the nightshift, but that was too easy. No, there had to be something more. If she wanted this to grow into what she was envisioning, then she had to encourage—and reward— this first tentative attempt. At the same time it meant reaching deep inside herself and admitting to her own wants and desires, which might prove the hardest part yet. She had all but forgotten what it was to want things for herself. Not the every-day material things, but the tantalising scenarios that surfaced in dreams, the dark secrets that lived only in the furthest recesses of the mind. The first inkling of a plan started to form in her mind and Gwen smiled slowly. It would require the assistance of Dagna, however, which meant using precious Inquisition resources for personal gain. She felt guilty for it, but decided to lay out her plans to Dagna, without going into the finer details, of course, and see what the Arcanist had to say. 

****************

“There’s a shield in your hand, block with it!” Cullen had decided to oversee the training today, but it felt like he was just repeating himself over and over. His lines never changed, only the recruits’ faces. He had needed the excuse to escape the confines of his office, that had started to feel too closed off and too accessible at the same time. He was fully aware that he had created a rod for his own back, not trusting the execution of even smaller matters unless he had given them a cursory review at the very least. That meant his office had now become a permanent parade of recruits with orders that needed to be signed or double-checked.   
Some days he wondered why he even bothered having a door at all. He was also aware of the fact that his mood had been foul for the last few days and that this had everything to do with the fact that this war had separated him from her again. It felt like they had less time together now than they did when they were trying to keep their relations a secret. He made a disgusted noise when the recruit tried to buck up his shielding and failed miserably. Turning away from the hapless recruit, he found himself looking at the main gate for what felt like the hundredth time in days. Makers breath, she had turned him into a pining love-struck fool. It was more than just the fact that he missed her physical proximity, although every bone in his body ached to hold her, it was the fact that he couldn’t be there to keep her safe. He couldn’t trust anyone to guard her back like he would have done, not even the Iron Bull. He ignored the treacherous little voice that whispered that she didn’t need his protection, because that was just nonsense. 

In the end, his temper would become worse before it got better, for it was another week before the scouts reported that the Inquisitor’s party had been spotted on the road for Skyhold. He drank in every detail of her as she cleared the main gate, his eyes cataloging even the smallest change. She looked tired, but that was to be expected. He smiled when he saw her looking up, searching and raised a hand in greeting when their eyes met. She smiled back and something angry and empty that had been tightly coiled inside of him began to unwind. 

*****************

“Is it ready?!!” Gwen had hurried from the debriefing as soon as propriety would allow, and barely at that. 

“Well, hello to you too, Inquisitor!” Dagna replied cheerfully, not seeming at all offended by Gwen’s abruptness. Taking a deep breath, Gwen tried to recall her manners.   
“I’m sorry Dagna, how are you? And is it ready?” 

Dagna laughed, a sound that reminded Gwen of a happy bell. “Yes, they are ready. I told you, didn’t I?” Beckoning Gwen to follow, Dagna walked to the corner of the Undercroft where two large objects stood covered by heavy sheets of cloth. Dagna looked almost as excited as Gwen felt when she pulled off the sheet with a grand gesture. 

“Ta dah!” 

Dagna’s grin widened and Gwen looked at the two almost identical standing mirrors that now stood before her. As mirrors went, they were rather plain looking; functional more than aesthetic. She looked at them dubiously; the wood on the left one was as dark as obsidian, whereas the one on the right was almost white. The mirror glass looked as ordinary as anything she’d ever seen. No one would ever mistake these for Eluvians. 

“You are sure they will work?” She asked somewhat dubiously. 

“Yess!” Dagna replied, with a hint of amused exasperation. Gwen reached out to run her hand over the wooden frame on the mirror on the left, but froze when Dagna exclaimed in alarm:   
“Stop! Don’t touch!” Giving the Arcanist a questioning look, she obediently dropped her hand.

“I still need to attune them to you and the intended recipient, you wouldn’t want the world looking in on everything you do here, right?” She sniggered at the thought, which Gwen found rather sobering herself, but she smiled politely. 

“What do you need, Dagna? I was hoping to test them out tonight.” Gwen felt a blush creep into her cheeks as she thought of the purpose they were intended for, but Dagna had already turned to her work-bench and appeared not to have noticed. 

“Just a few drops of your blood mixed with the left-over memory crystal powder and that should have the transmitter ready.”

Dagna turned as Gwen followed her to the workbench and before she had a chance to react, Dagna had grabbed her hand and proceeded to swiftly jab a fat pin in it. 

“Ouch! Hey!” 

Completely ignoring Gwen’s outburst, Dagna squeezed the finger until two drops had been forced from it.   
Dagna grinned cheerfully. “All done, Inquisitor.” She all but ran back to the mirror, furiously mixing a tiny bowl in her hands. With a small brush, she carefully applied the mixture to the surface of the light mirror and Gwen watched as it seemed to absorb into the glass. 

“So how does it work? Do both mirrors need to be activated at the same time? “ 

Dagna grimaced and looked a little sheepish as she replied: 

“Actually…. This one is always kinda on. I didn’t have enough memory crystal power left to make it reversible. You just need to be somewhat close to it, that’s why I needed the blood.” 

She walked to another table and exchanged the now empty bowl for a small black stone.   
“This will require a fingerprint, I have already attuned it to the mirror, but at this time, I can only create one key.” She handed the runestone to Gwen, tapping the symbol that had been engraved on it. There was a piece of parchment in her other hand. 

“I have left the instructions on this paper, it will accept the next person’s thumbprint after the first words are spoken and with that and the passphrase they can see through the other one.” From the look in Dagna’s eyes, Gwen could tell she found all the secrecy highly amusing. 

“Of course, if it were me, I’d get the looking mirror into Corypheus’ camp to see what he’s up to, wouldn’t that be wonderful?” She laughed again and Gwen smiled absently. She did love Dagna’s optimism and friendly chatter, but her mind was already racing ahead and her stomach doing the dance of an angry cloud of butterflies. There were a thousand things to do and then she had to hope everything would go to plan. “One more thing: the receiver mirror will glow as soon as the key is used. It’s only for a moment and I tried to mask it, but there just wasn’t enough to work with.” Gwen gestured to indicate it was of no consequence. In her scenario, that would actually work out even better.   
“Thank you, Dagna, this means a lot to me.” Gwen started to move towards the door, her mind already on the task ahead and how to get the runestone to Cullen.   
“Inquisitor, before you go, have you given my request to work on the explosive powder with Rocky some more thought?” 

He can’t know what it’s for yet, who can I trust with this…. 

“What? Oh.. yeah.. Sure, go for it.” Gwen was vaguely aware that Dagna’s question might have been important, but none of the words had properly registered. She could only hope her acquiescence wouldn’t end up in something fatal. 

****************

Cullen frowned at the note in his hand with confusion bordering on irritation. Ever since Gwen had returned to Skyhold, he’d done his best to get her alone, if only for five minutes. Other than seeing her in the war room for a quick debrief, he hadn’t caught so much as a glimpse of her. If he didn’t know any better, he’d swear she’d been actively avoiding him.  
And now this. 

He’d returned to his rooms, only to find someone had gone through the trouble of dragging a Maker-cursed flaming mirror up the ladder and into his bedroom. He liked his sleeping quarters somber and clutter-free, if he’d have wanted a mirror, he would have asked for it! It stood in the corner of the room, facing the bed and he’d almost been tempted to throw it back down the hole, if not for the fact that he was more superstitious than he’d like to admit and the note he was now holding in his hand. 

Staring from the note to the small runestone, he tried to wrap his head around a reason why she would want him to do this. He had planned on spending the night with her and assuring himself that every inch of her body was still in the same condition as when she’d left, but had never gotten the chance to speak to her and arrange such things. Common courtesy and a streak of stubborn pride forbade him to simply present himself uninvited. This whole business just reeked of magic and he mistrusted it on principle. 

Still...it was unmistakingly her handwriting and the paper even carried that unique scent that was so unequivocally her. With a resigned sigh, he rubbed his face and figured this had to be related to that cursed mystery box she seemed so fascinated with. His lips moved as he silently practiced the strange sounding words. 

Finally, he faced the mirror and held up the little runestone, carefully placing his thumb on it as instructed. 

“Draíocht!” 

Even the dwarves had given up on their old tongue and this had to be why. He felt like he was trying to cough up a hairball. For a split second, nothing happened, but then the stone warmed to the touch and he could briefly see a faint glow. He squinted at the second line on the paper and held out the stone to the surface of the mirror, shaking his head in disbelief that he was even entertaining the thought. 

“Par fianais..”

As soon as the last syllable left his lips, the surface of the mirror went dark, only to slowly clear up again, leaving him to look directly into Gwen’s bedroom. Gwen’s head turned towards him as soon the picture cleared and he felt his cheeks warm. For some reason he felt like he was intruding on her privacy and he raised his hand in an apologetic gesture, ready to turn away. 

When she didn’t acknowledge the gesture, he waved experimentally, but she continued brushing her hair as if nothing had happened. He was now fairly sure she could not see him even though she had to know he was watching. She had arranged the whole affair, after all.   
The light in her bedroom was dimming, but she had lit all the candles, most of them surrounding the big copper tub she must have had someone move for this particular occasion.   
She approached the mirror and from the way she was biting her lip, he could tell she was nervous. He half raised his hand to reassure her, before he remembered the mirror. She continued brushing out her hair until it cascaded down her shoulders in luxurious golden waves and his fingers twitched with the urge to run his fingers through it. 

Putting the brush down, she approached the mirror and he could almost imagine her looking directly at him as her hands slowly crept up her bodice and halted at the first button. His eyes followed the gesture and he felt his mouth go dry. She would pick a moment when he was already aching for her. Her fingers played with the fabric of the rounded collar before she popped it open and Cullen felt mesmerised. She pulled down the fabric a little, letting her fingertips trail over the tiny bit of skin that had now been exposed and Cullen realised he had stepped closer to the mirror without realising it. Part of him wanted to go to her—why watch her through a piece of cold glass when he could have her in arms in the space of minutes—but there was something about this delayed gratification that made it oh so enticing. Realising he would not be looking away for a while, he made a quick decision and lifted the mirror closer to the bed. He quickly shed his boots and gambeson, made awkward by the fact that he didn’t want to miss a single thing and then stretched out comfortably. 

Two more buttons had followed the first and the neckline had fallen open far enough that he could see the swell of her breasts. He felt his breath quicken, the first stirrings making themselves known and he shifted for more comfort. Another button and he could see the white corset she was wearing under the blouse. Her skin was the colour of cream and he longed to press his lips to the sensitive spot on her neck, just under her earlobe. Her reaction to it was something that never failed to arouse him. She let the blouse slip off one shoulder and caressed the slope of it, running her hand up the side of her neck as if she had caught his thoughts.   
Her eyes closed briefly in a way that was so familiar to him and he wondered again why he was voluntarily sitting through this glorious torture. His hands closed on the covers of his bed and he made an effort to relax, taking a deep breath through his nose. Not being able to control the situation, take charge and lead them was beyond frustrating. 

And then the final button popped through the hole and she let the blouse slip to the floor. Her hands rested on the buckle of her trousers and she paused as she had before. Her eyes were dark and full of unspoken feelings and his eyes lingered on her lips before taking in all the glorious skin that was now exposed. Her hands slipped behind the buckle and there went the belt. The trousers followed with a little wiggle of her hips and Cullen shook his head in amused despair when the long silk stockings became visible under the corset. She knew exactly how to inflict the biggest possible damage. The fact that the whole show was delivered with the self-conscious awkwardness of someone unused to the performance, only endeared her to him more. He knew this had to be far out of her comfort zone and the fact that she would do this for him, made both his heart and his cock swell. 

True enough, his own trousers were starting to feel uncomfortably restrictive and he unbuckled his own belt in kind. She bent forward at the waist until he was sure her breasts would spill out of the corset and he found himself leaning forward to catch that perfect moment. Turning around, she did the same from the other side, giving him a perfect view of her ample curves. Facing front, she reached behind and untied the laces that held the delicate basque in place and he held his breath in anticipation. She let it drop, but crossed her arms across her breasts to obscure most of them from view. Not that she succeeded entirely and he hungrily drank in every detail, filing the image away for later reference. Somehow the fact that her hands were too small to contain all of that glorious bosom left an impression he would not soon forget. 

Opening his pants, he slipped a hand inside and gave himself a bit more room to grow, pushing his leather pants just over his hips in the process. With the tip and most of the shaft exposed, he stroked himself slowly, watching her turn around again with her thumbs hooked under the band of her small-clothes. As she pushed them down ever so slowly, leaning forward, he could see the wetness glisten between her legs and realised she had shaved herself for the occasion. He groaned in near-despair, wondering how much more of this she wanted to put him through. He was as hard as he had ever been, which still came as a surprise to him after years of Lyrium desensitisation, but she had cured him of so many things, this was just one of them. She widened her stance, offering him an even more unobscured view and the throbbing ache in his cock increased by another few notches until his hips bucked against his hand.

Part of him still felt the shame that came from giving himself pleasure, years of Chantry indoctrination would not be washed away so easily, not even by the most captivating woman he’d ever met. He squeezed his shaft and slowly rubbed the pre-cum across the head with a thumb. He realised this would soon have to result in a climax, one way or another and he knew which way had his preference. Leaning forward, she picked something up from the bed and slipped it over her head. His own written words drifted back to him as he realised it was the whisper thin chemise Josephine had given her for her birthday. She turned around and let her hands roam over her body, caressing her breasts and looking into the mirror with a look that asked if he liked what he saw.   
He liked. He liked very much. Far from being disappointed that she was now wearing more, he could not get enough of the way her nipples pressed up against the near-translucent silk. She rubbed and bunched the fabric on her thighs and his cock twitched in his hands. He wasn’t sure whether to laugh or cry in frustration, especially since he couldn’t even verbally communicate to let her know how much he wanted her. 

She did a full turn, her arms outstretched, as if showing off the garment to him and he made a mental note to thank Josephine. If he had wondered what the tub was for, she now made its purpose clear by pulling up the delicate white fabric past her thighs and stepping into the steaming water, stockings and all. The other leg followed and he watched her slowly lower herself into the copper tub, the water looking as dark as ink in the shadows of the candles. He could almost picture the sound of the water as it slowly covered the lower half of her body. She let the hem of the chemise drop just before her bottom hit the water and then sank below the surface up to her neck. He shifted when she slowly stood again, water cascading off her body and dripping from the soaked fabric in slow trickles. He licked his lips as his eyes fastened on the now-soaked fabric and how it clung to her form. If the material had been sheer before, now it was positively see-through. For some reason, it was highly erotic. He could not get enough of the way her nipples pressed darkly against the wet fabric, the way it clung to every curve and swell of her body, emphasising rather than obscuring. He bit down on his lower lip, stifling a groan that hovered somewhere between frustration and pleasure. She played with the wet fabric, plucking it away from her skin in some places and pulling it taut and he had to squeeze the base of his cock firmly to not let things get out of hand too quickly. Finally she delicately stepped out of the water, briefly patting down wet skin and stockings with a towel. 

There was a shy smile on her lips when she retreated to the bed and slid onto it backwards. He followed the hem of the night shift as she slowly pulled up it her legs and felt an indescribable urge to ravage her and put his teeth to the fabric. As he followed the curve of her thigh inwards, he realised she was holding up a piece of paper. It read: 

“Come get me.” 

Cullen couldn’t remember ever stuffing himself back in his pants so quickly or doing it with so much difficulty. Certainly not since his childhood days when he was about to get caught doing things he shouldn’t. In the end he opted to forgo the belt and let his tunic hang over his loosely buttoned trousers as he all but sprinted the distance to the main keep, relying on his drawers to keep his erection in check. 

It took an effort not to burst through the door like a maniac after taking the stairs to her quarters two at a time, because his blood was up and he was ready to exact revenge for every single heartbeat of sweet torture she’d put him through. In the end, he forced himself to take two deep breaths before opening the doors and walking up the last few steps slowly, his eyes latching on to her as soon as his head cleared the landing. 

Gwen realised her hands were trembling when she let the piece of parchment slip to the floor next to the bed. She shivered briefly as she wondered if the mirror had worked. For all she knew, she’d been putting on a show in front of a reflective piece of glass with no one on the other side. Or worse:what if it wasn’t Cullen on the other side of that view? Or if it had been him, perhaps she had just made an absolute fool of herself. The sound of the downstairs door opening seemed to come much too fast and she found herself swallowing nervously, suddenly worried in case this turned out to be a really misguided idea. What was I thinking?!

She almost let out a relieved sigh when Cullen’s familiar blond coiffe came into view, only to be replaced with a somersault of butterflies of a different origin. His eyes were dark in the low light of the candles, his jaw set in determination and her eyes widened. Had she angered him with her display? She had never considered that such wanton behaviour could have the opposite effect of what she intended. He covered the distance from the stairs to the bed in three or four purposeful strides and she let small sound of worry before he cut that off by swooping down and kissing her till she ran out of breath. Her body relaxed in his grip, gasping when his hands roamed over the damp fabric still clinging to her skin with fevered urgency. He moved her legs apart with one knee with uncharacteristic impatience, nestling in between her legs before he let go of her just long enough to brusquely pull his shirt over his head. His skin felt almost hot against the hers and she arched into him when he kissed her again. 

His tongue plunged into her mouth as if to claim it and she dug her fingers in the muscles of his back. Her eyes opened when he pulled away once more, this time to kick off his boots and shove down his trousers, leaving them on the floor in a careless heap. His eyes stayed fixed on her throughout, his expression no less focussed as when he had first entered the room   
She took the opportunity to feast her eyes on his physique in the brief interlude, devouring him with as much of an appetite as she saw in him. The sight of his erection, tip glistening with pre-cum made her clench her thighs together. Not that he gave her a chance to look long, barely taking a moment to kneel beside her on the bed before his hands found the hem of the nightshirt and slowly pushing it up her thighs. Her skin broke out in goosebumps as his hands ran up her legs, damp fabric giving way to warm, rough hands. He cupped her sex with one hand, the heat from his skin immediate against the smoothly shaved skin. She felt exposed and sensitive to his touch in ways that sent shivers up and down her spine and her breath hitched when his fingers brushed up and down her lips. 

“Look at me,” he whispered and she realised she had shut her eyes to savour the sensation.   
Opening her eyes, she almost shut them again when he slipped a finger just inside and slowly ran it up and down. Biting down on an inarticulate moan, she looked at him pleadingly, her hips bucking when he touched a sensitive spot. Her hand slid down from his back, yearning to feel that which her eyes had been admiring moments earlier but his free hand grabbed her wrist and stopped her. He gently pinned the hand over her head while his fingers continued their gentle exploration into her depths, turning her sound of protest into one of soft keening. She could feel his erection rub up against her side and squirmed to feel more of it. Bending down to nuzzle her neck, he softly growled, circling her nub in increasingly smaller circles until she moaned in time with his administrations.

She wanted to hold out, wanted to savour this exquisite feeling, but he knew her body too well. Excitement had been building inside her since she first had an inkling of how to best respond to Cullen’s tentative ask and he was relentless in his pursuit of her climax. Her body arched and bucked against his hand as he took her to the pinnacle and wave after wave of bliss crashed against the shore of her consciousness. Still gently twitching with increased sensitivity, she grinned and offered her mouth for a kiss. His lips came down on hers hungrily, his hips moving against her in an unnecessary reminder of his unsated desire. She pushed up against him, shifting her body against him in a gesture that demanded his attention. 

“Please…,” she whispered, the look she gave him anything but meek. He moved on top of her, levering himself with such ease that she couldn’t resist the urge to run her hands up the muscles of his arms. She drew up her legs, making room for him as her eyes fastened on his in anticipation. He buried his face in the side of her neck, biting down playfully and she fisted both hands in his short hair, pushing her body up against his. She all but cursed his iron discipline when he still would not enter her, instead teasing her by gripping himself and sliding the tip through her soaked folds. Pushing herself up as far as her body would allow, he still easily eluded her silent plea. She kissed him hungrily, almost tempted by her resurging need to result to crude language to make him meet her demands. As if sensing he was pushing the edges of her frustration, he suddenly shifted, pulling her up. 

They looked at each other appraisingly for a moment, before she took the opportunity to roam her hands restlessly across his sculpted body. Letting his hands slip down from her shoulders, he ran his palms across the swell of her breasts, lifting them to lick and nibble both her nipples in turn. A low sound emanated from the back of her throat as he grazed the tender flesh with his teeth and with both his hands so thoroughly occupied, she finally managed to slip past his defenses. Grinning triumphantly for a second, her fingers caressed the silky smooth haft of his cock, hot and throbbing in her hand when she gripped it. She had the satisfaction of hearing his breath catch as she gently squeezed, her other hand smoothly sliding under to cup his balls. Her lips tingled in anticipation and her tongue darted out to wet them. There was a thread of pre-cum she was dying to savour while she slowly slipped him inside her mouth and she leaned forward eagerly. Again he tried to stop her by firmly grabbing her shoulders, but this time she would not be dissuaded so easily. Kissing him, she firmed her grip, letting her hands work in tandem, caressing and stroking his shaft, while her thumb gently smeared the moisture over the tip. He moaned into her mouth and she made another attempt to lean in for a more intimate kiss on his beautiful and glorious cock. 

Cullen chuckled ruefully, firmly disentangling her hands from his member and planting a kiss in each palm before leaning in to whisper: “Move to the edge of the bed.”   
Not quite understanding, she let his hands guide her and push her forward on all fours. She was now facing the edge of the bed and when she looked up, their reflection stared back at her from the mirror she had so carefully positioned earlier. Cullen moved into position behind her and their eyes locked as they each hungrily lapped up the image reflected back at them. Cullen’s hands roamed her hips, caressing her buttocks and squeezing the ample flesh. Gwen’s nostrils flared as she both felt and saw his hands across her body. She shuddered and bucked when he gently spread her cheeks and nudged against her folds and entrance. Pressing back against him, she spread her knees and tilted her pelvis, wanton need now driving her most primal urges. She simply had to feel him inside her, before sheer frustration made her cry.   
Fortunately, Cullen seemed disinclined to wait any longer and in the next moment he plunged himself deep inside of her. She cried out, partly in surprise, but mostly with the triumph of that glorious sensation. Looking up at the mirror reflection, she watched their bodies connect as he proceeded to thoroughly fuck her, quickly building momentum after that initial and oh so satisfying move. Each thrust drove him in just that little bit deeper, one of his hands gripping her shoulder for better purchase. She could not look away from him in the reflection, could not look away from how their bodies moved together, each stroke bringing deeper pleasure. She cried out when his other hand reached around to find her clit. The position was awkward and he had to lean over her back to do so, but he still managed. She had been sopping wet throughout, but now the intensity was making her clench around him as she felt the tension built to the next orgasm. She could feel him tense, his body all but trembling with the tremendous amount of restraint he put it through and she moaned, his name falling from her lips in between pleas. Finally, with a hoarse cry and a final mighty thrust, Cullen spilled himself deep inside her and her arms collapsed as her own climax swept over her with such intensity that it drove her into the mattress.


End file.
